


Trains

by GrayJedi11



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Adopted Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Anxious Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Depressed Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Parents Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Suicide Attempt, logan and roman only mentioned, patton is good babey, this may or may not end up with multiple chapters despite what it says ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22223296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayJedi11/pseuds/GrayJedi11
Summary: Virgil is determined to end it, while Patton is determined of the opposite.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 11
Kudos: 112





	Trains

**Author's Note:**

> saving this as single chapter, because it does stand alone and if i do write more its not happening anytime soon.

Virgil hopped down.

It can’t be that bad, can it? Trains come in quick, probably don’t leave much room for suffering.

He wished it’d been less crowded. Lots of people were watching.

He took a breath in his last moments to look around. Few people got to see subway tracks from this perspective. It’d been one of his wishes to die this way. Experiencing something new before experiencing nothing again.

He could imagine the metal tracks were freezing on this cold day. If he wanted to touch them, he could, he supposed. Better to wait, though.

In a way, Virgil had known all his life that this day would come. From abuse to anxiety and depression, from self-harm to fear of slightly or highly dangerous things and fear of his power with slightly or highly dangerous things, to loss of fear of slightly to highly dangerous things, it wasn’t surprising in the slightest.

And after all those years of self-harm and self-deprecating actions, nobody had noticed. He’d been trained well do hide it with his birth parents, so no one else had ever known about it, even Roman or Logan.

They were good parents, mind you, but Logan’s job prevented him from seeing Virgil much, and Roman’s autism didn’t exactly help with noticing emotions. That plus Virgil’s years and years of practice hiding things, they’d never noticed.

For a moment, he considered how things might be different right now if they had. He might not be here. He might be up on the platform right now, waiting for the train, smiling. He might be on his way to therapy with someone good…

But that wasn’t today. Today was failing grades. Today was self-loathing. Today was people avoiding him. Today was a recent breakup. Today was homophobia. Today was blood and pain. Today was no tomorrow.

Because tomorrow would be a bad day. Like the past hundreds of days.

So the train was his only option.

Although, for the train to come fast enough to kill him, he should move farther up. Pulling into the station it would be fairly slow.

He began to walk. Time was moving slow. His senses were too. 

Rocks crumbling beneath his feet.

Cold air biting at his fingers.

The grey scenery before him.

Scents of winter and cigarette smoke.

The rumbling of an approaching train.

But no…

He heard something else.

A sweet voice, full and loud.

“...go get help! Dee, call 911!”

The mysterious voice approached, calling to Virgil.

“Come back! It’s not worth it!”

Virgil turned to look at this mystery man. He was beautiful, with fluffy, curly golden hair bouncing in slow motion as he ran towards him. Large eyes and a chubby face decorated with round glasses. Soon, the man jumped down onto the tracks like Virgil, but for a much different reason.

“I need you to come!”

And now everything was here. Virgil was suddenly aware of the wind pushing his hair on his face, the intimidating rumble of a train on tracks. His eyes flashing to the bright, scared eyes of the man who’d just grabbed hold of his hand. It was the first warmth he’d felt in a while.

He was pulled towards the platform. Half of his mind told him to resist, told him to die. He could do it. The train seemed but inches away to him, he could make it…

Yet the other half wanted to stay. If he died now, he’d never meet this beautiful man, never learn why he cared to save him. Never gaze into those wide black eyes, never feel his warmth again. And Virgil resisting could also mean the death of his savior. It would make his suicide even worse. Plus, this wonderful man would feel guilty for Virgil’s doing.

So he ran as well.

The two leaped up onto the platform, a man dressed in green with a mustache who had edged along the thin wall helping them up. They narrowly avoided the train as it went past, squished against the bannister. It was cold and unclean, but relatively safe compared to their last position. His heart beat fast, finding security in the brunette man holding his hand. The group shimmied along until they reached the platform.

Immediately Virgil was overwhelmed by blankets and concern, the platform-dwellers’ destinations forgotten. His savior stood behind it all, gazing at him as if to make sure that this was okay.

The ambulance eventually came, but Virgil refused to get in until he’d received the brunette man’s contact information.

“Patton Hart,” he’d said.

Hart. Fitting.

He tuned out the din to watch Patton as he was forced to leave.

Someday he would repay him.


End file.
